


Nothing Ever Lasts Forever

by disenchanted_blood



Category: Amazingphil - Fandom, Danisnotonfire - Fandom, Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 10:23:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8442070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/disenchanted_blood/pseuds/disenchanted_blood
Summary: Tragic - the word that best describes Annabelle Lester.Her life has been one misfortune after another, and after the death of her mother secrets about her past begin to reveal themselves. Secrets that can destroy a person's life.With only her brother and his best friend to turn to, is there any possible way Annabelle can put herself back together? Or is her life and pointless as she believes it to be?





	

It's been three months since my mother died and nothing has gotten any easier. In fact, I'd say things have gotten worse.

Father's first reaction to the incident was to mourn. Every night I could hear him crying, sobbing until he was hiccuping, and when I went to check on him he was passed out on the floor of his room. After the first few nights he moved to the bed when he cried, at least he passed out in comfort.

Slowly I noticed him changing, every day he would seem a little more off. He'd stay up later, sleep in longer, until he basically turned his sleeping pattern around. While I lived in the proper time zone, it's almost as though he was following Australia's. He stopped going to work, which at first they sympathised with - after all, he had just lost his wife and needed time to recover. But after a month they started giving him warnings. Where he worked, he couldn't afford to take so much time off, they needed him. Three warnings later and he lost his job. They loved having him work there, he was a great man, but after not showing up for a month and a half, ignoring roughly 240 hours of work, they needed to find a replacement and that resulted in the loss of his job.

A month and a half after the incident and he was wifeless and jobless. I'm not entirely sure he had depression because he never went to a psychiatrist, even when I asked him to, but even without the proper diagnosis, it seemed reasonable enough to say that the disorder had a deadly grip on his mind.

With him not having a job, it was up to me to find one and provide money. No, we weren't poor, and if we needed it my brother pitched in and helped with bills sometimes, but I was determine to pay for my own food. So every day after school I would walk to the small coffee shop where I worked and stayed late. Not that it mattered, father was always asleep during the day anyway. Being young, I didn't get much an hour, but I tried my hardest to pick up hours so I could keep providing. I knew it was really his job as the adult to provide money, and I was mourning too, but I did what I had to.

One night when I finished work I was walking home and I remember police cars and an ambulance speeding past. As the nosey teenager I am, I followed them out of curiosity. It was late, way later than a girl my age should be wandering the streets, and my tiredness from a full day of school and then 8 hours of work afterwards dulled my perception of where I was actually going. It wasn't until I realised I was walking down my own street that my stomach dropped. The police had been called to my house. I vaguely remember being sick in the front yard and running inside my house afterwards to find out what had happened.

It turns out that the neighbours had called them because they heard screaming from our house. Father was hospitalised after he drunkenly stabbed himself in the leg, thinking he was aiming for his chest. His screams were agonising, calling for his wife to come back to him, the pain from both psychical and mental wounds tearing my father apart.

They wouldn't let him out for a while, well and truly until after his leg healed. They wanted to keep an eye on him, make sure he was stable before allowing him to come home. I hid all the knives from him, never letting him cook after that. It was almost as if I had become his caretaker.

At the two month mark, he started drinking again. It wasn't much at first but each night meant another drink and eventually he was living his life out of the bottles.  
He was admitted back into hospital with alcohol poisoning and I was taken out of his care as he was deemed unfit to be a parent.

That's how I ended up on the doorstep of my brother's apartment.


End file.
